


Reversing One's Own Perception

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Days, Caring Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Molly Is Not Okay, Molly has a bad day, POV Molly, POV Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Sherlock Being Considerate, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, crying Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly has had a series of bad days and after one particularly bad encounter with a fellow doctor at the hospital it just gets to be too much. Sherlock, however, has some surprising things to say that gets her to see herself as well as their relationship in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reversing One's Own Perception

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written for a friend of mine, **sherlollyistheunicornshit** , who had gotten some news that wasn't good new and wanted some fluffy hurt/comfort fic, and it took me a little while to write and post it due to pain issues but I _finally_ was able to get it up. It was inspired partially by a prompt from the Tumblr blog **otpprompts** that had a prompt that I loved but tweaked slightly to fit Sherlock's characterization (" _Person A has very low self-esteem, but they keep it all bottled up until one night, when they go off to cry. Person B follows after them, and when Person A talks about how stupid and useless and talentless they are, Person B yells at them to stop and starts crying about how they wish Person A could love themselves as much as they (Person B) do._ "). Also the "I'm allergic to jerks" sentence comes from [this](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/142534142233/random-sentence-starters) list of sentence starters. I am so sorry for the delay, hun, but I hope it helps!

It had been a series of bad days, it seemed. Or maybe not bad days, but a series of days where there had been little things each day that had amounted to her feeling a little worse each day, a little less happy and a little less sure of herself in every possible way. Canceled get-togethers between friends and potential romantic partners, small mistakes at her job that beginners would make, uncomfortable interactions with others, things like that. And today...today was just the showstopper, so to speak.

Today had been the day that the new appointee to the hospital board from among the staff was to be announced. She had been nominated by a few people, because she had ideas for what would be best for Barts, having been there as long as she had. She hadn’t done much campaigning for the position, not seeing the need and also not wanting to put herself out there. She was friendly with her colleagues, she supposed, but she thought she was being judged on her merits, not her ability to schmooze.

But oh, she’d been sorely mistaken.

Shortly after she found out she didn’t get the position, the man who did, Dr. Henry Mortimer, came in to gloat, saying she should have gone to more functions instead of spending her time in the basement, surrounded by corpses. It would have helped to be a little less morbid, spend more time with the living than the dead. And then he’d topped it off with a remark that maybe if she’d kept a little less disagreeable company, a little more socially acceptable company, she would have stood a chance against someone like him. She’d stood there, red-faced, mumbling polite answers as he had gone on and on, wanting to do nothing more than to find a place to run off and hide. Fortunately, a detective inspector had arrived, seen the situation and told him gruffly but firmly to leave before giving her time to compose herself before getting his post-mortem results.

And then she had been left to stew for a bit before Sherlock had arrived.

And one look at his face and she had felt tears stream down her face before she set down her scalpel and left mid-autopsy for the lift to take her to the courtyard upstairs. The doors had opened and she had just stepped inside, doors almost closed, when a hand moved between them and Sherlock stepped inside. “Why are you crying?” he asked, looking utterly bewildered.

She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her lab coat. “I am _not_ crying, okay?! I’m allergic to jerks!”

“How have I upset you?” he asked, his voice softening immediately as he approached her in the small lift.

“No, not you. Dr. Mortimer.” She sniffed slightly. “He came to gloat after he got the position to the hospital board, and he was cruel about it. He pointed out I’m...a freak. I spend more time with corpses than living, breathing people, and the people I _do_ spend time with are quote unquote ‘socially unacceptable,’ and I’m just so pathetic and hopeless. And it’s true. No one wants to spend time with me, not friends or anyone interested in me romantically. I mean, bloody hell, my fiancee cheated on me, I can’t even satisfy a man properly.” Tears began streaming down her face. “And I can’t even do my job to a satisfactory level these days! I’ve been making beginner level mistakes lately and I’m just pathetic and--”

“Stop that,” Sherlock said sharply, moving towards her and placing his hands on her shoulders. She stopped talking, tears still streaming and her nose running slightly. He pulled one hand away and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. She wiped her eyes and then blew her nose, a bit self-consciously. “You are not pathetic. I may have thought that, once, a long time ago, but you have disavowed me of that notion in the years since you helped me with the fall off the roof and faking my death. And if this Dr. Mortimer has implied you are pathetic I’ll punch him so hard he’ll forget his name and any and all medical training he’s ever had.”

She felt a small smile tug on her lips even as surprise etched itself upon her face. “Oh, Sherlock--” she began, though he shook his head and she stopped.

“You are one of the most brilliant women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.” He paused for a moment. “There is a version of you who resides in my mind palace, who represents cold, hard logic and helps me work through the toughest problems I face. I would be lost without her, just like I would be lost without you, the real version of you.” After a moment, he brought the hand that was still on her shoulder up to her face and gently caressed her face. “There is also a version of you that guards the section where my emotions are. She...is also important to me. She keeps my heart safe. And I think that she is nearly as important as the version who helps me solve the most diabolical crimes in all of London, but not nearly as important as the woman standing before me now.”

She felt a smile settle on her face. She had had no idea he felt this way. And while it was not an actual declaration of love it was the most tender and heartfelt thing he had ever said to her. She stepped closer to him. “Sherlock, thank you,” she said before standing on her toes and brushing her lips across his lightly. She was surprised when a moment later he used his free arm to pull her closer and deepen the kiss, and she shut her eyes and melted against him, enjoying it until she felt the jarring movement of the lift being called to another floor.

When they pulled apart she saw a look in his eyes she had never seen before, a warmth that made his eyes turn a warmer shade of the bluish green she had never observed being there before. “So, when your shift is over for the night, will you perhaps join me for supper?” he asked, not letting her go.

“How about I cook for you and we see where the evening takes us?” she asked with a warm smile, feeling all the sadness of the week melting away when she saw him smile in return before ducking his head down to kiss her again. To hell with whoever was on the other side of the doors of the lift when they opened, she thought to herself. She didn’t care who saw her with her “socially unacceptable” company or who might think she was a freak or pathetic or hopeless. This man adored her so very much, and as long as he had faith in her and could help restore her faith in herself, that was all that really mattered.


End file.
